


Moonset or: Stages of Getting Back to Remus

by LucyInTheSkye



Series: Sirius x Remus [23]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Banter, Bathing/Washing, Body Worship, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Cream, Insecurity, Kissing, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Oral Sex, Scars, Self-Hatred, Sleepy Cuddles, Werewolf Biology, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyInTheSkye/pseuds/LucyInTheSkye
Summary: November 1979. The morning after.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Sirius x Remus [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483745
Comments: 8
Kudos: 112





	Moonset or: Stages of Getting Back to Remus

“When’s the last time Moony tried to climb a tree, you reckon? Looked bloody hilarious, and did you hear that little yelp he made just before he fell down and drowned in that pile of autumn leaves?” 

It was James’s voice, and it was filled with giddy laughter. As a sensation it was just about as far away from what Remus currently felt as possible.

“Mmm. His eyes always bulge out of his face when he realizes he’s fucked up. He did the same that time he caught scent of the spiders, remember? Hagrid’s acromantula. Got himself stuck in one of those giant spider webs and had to howl for us to come rescue him.”

The second voice was closer and belonged to Sirius. More non-committal, but a little bit teasing, too. 

Remus tried to whine, but it got stuck in his throat. His throat felt as if it had been scraped raw. He was so cold he wasn’t even shivering anymore, and it felt like he had broken… Everything. 

A normal morning after for him, then.

“There we are, let’s get this around you. You must be freezing?”

The floor of the forest was icy underneath the dead leaves. Sirius was pulling something thick around him, something to cover up his naked body with. He’d brought clothes, before, until he realized Remus’s limbs were too stiff to bend properly, straight after the full moon. Eyes closed, he deduced he was being gathered into a large blanket, a blanket that smelled of his and Sirius’s flat, of Sirius mainly. Anything would have been better than the musty earth and cold rainwater that he felt as a grimy layer all over. Sirius’s expensive French cologne and unfiltered cigarettes formed an odd, but certainly welcome mix to the eau de forest. At least there was no iron, didn’t appear to have been any bloodshed.

“You went swimming, in case you’re wondering why you’re frozen through,” Sirius explained. “And Prongs got his antlers stuck in a juniper bush, although he’ll pretend it didn’t happen.”

“You great sodding snake,” James said, although he was laughing. “It was for research, me and Lily are thinking about making our own gin.”

“Lily is, you mean. As if she’d even let you into the kitchen for anything but serving as a footstool.”

“She’s not that short, you tosser. She finds plenty of uses for me, and all over the cottage too. Don’t you worry about that.”

“Tell her to make it rhubarb flavoured,” Sirius said while his arms tried to get underneath Remus’s body. “I think I had some at a party, once. It was nice.”

Remus heard the approach of a second body, heard the crack from joints that were still doing much better than his. A second shape crouched down beside Sirius. 

“Is he alright?”

For the first time, James didn’t sound as if he was one quarter of a second away from flinging a dungbomb into a crowd and running off. 

“Longest moons of the year, this month and the next. No wonder he’s exhausted.”

Remus cracked an eye open.

“There you are, beautiful,” Sirius said, eyes even warmer than his arms. James, whose face was right next to Sirius’s, gave his best friend an amused look before he, too, gave Remus a sunny smile. 

“Still in one piece, I see. You better apparate home, Pads, get him comfortable. I’ll see you both on Sunday, yeah? Lily’s the one who’ll be doing the actual cooking, so there's no need to worry.”

“We’ll be there,” Sirius said, but his eyes were still on Remus, and they were more critical now, running up and down his mostly blanket-ensconced body, seemingly assessing the damage from the transformation. Remus tried to say ‘thank you’, felt the familiar need to show his friends how much he appreciated this, how guilty he felt about them spending hours in the cold, babysitting a deranged werewolf, but all that left his mouth was a pitiful croak. James winked nonetheless, gave Sirius a pat on the shoulder and stood up. Remus closed his eyes again and a few seconds later he heard the crack of James disapparating.

“I need to lift you properly now, but you just try and relax, ok?”

Remus couldn’t respond to that, but he seemingly was still in one piece once he was all the way in Sirius’s arms, Sirius carrying him like a bride. A barely conscious one huddled in a blanket, a trembling and hurt one covered in all the dirt and cold the forest had to offer on such a delightful November night. Remus kept his eyes closed, and only just refrained from vomiting when Sirius twisted into apparition, taking him along for the compressed, nauseating ride. 

He must have passed out, after, because he woke up with a hoarse yelp just as he was lowered into warm water.

“You’re doing so well, Remus.”

Remus did not agree. His joints ached; his head felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. And he was naked, exposed and unprotected. There were streaks of dirt everywhere, but not enough to cover up the hideous scar, the old inglorious war wound someone even more monstrous than himself had left him with. He could see it through the stinging slits his eyes opened in, white and pink and somehow stark, as if the moon had put a spotlight on it and forgotten to turn it off. 

Years ago his whole side had been savaged, Remus knew it had been touch and go for days. Unfortunately, and despite what all the literature on child psychology had said, he had never forgotten it. His mother Hope hadn’t left his side, had slept on the floor next to his bed, applied a mix of muggle and magical medicine his father brought batches of, force-fed him potions and chicken broth he’d vomited up the second they touched his tongue. In the end, it was his own childish magic manifesting itself in the eleventh hour that saved him, let him heal as much as was possible in the circumstances. Remus hadn’t really seen reason to celebrate his newfound abilities, his newfound magic. His mutilated, terrified, five-year-old self hadn’t been able to walk for weeks, and after a month he finally understood that although he had lived, he wasn’t a five-year-old boy anymore. He was no longer human. 

“You’re absolutely perfect. Now you just need to lie back and let me clean you up.”

Sirius already had a soft, wet flannel in hand, but he put it aside and moved to kneel behind Remus’s head. He cupped his hands in the water Remus was half-way submerged in, brought it up to Remus’s face. His palms were soft and warm and so very human. They caressed his cheeks, his forehead, his mouth and chin. Fresh new water, thumbs carefully rubbing at the side of Remus’s eyes, where some of the worst tensions in Remus’s face could be found. He couldn’t remember ever telling Sirius that, didn’t think he’d ever needed to. More water, cleaning behind his ears. Then his hair. Remus croaked out a moan, his spine tingling with the first good feeling he’d had since rebirth. Sirius’s fingertips were just right, all over his scalp, and he could smell the shampoo, now. More water, slow rinse. Sirius’s hand held his neck, made sure it didn’t bend too far back.

“I’ll put a towel here, hang on…”

Remus’s head was eased back to lie on the edge of the tub, but with a folded towel underneath, like a cushion. There was a spell, too, one that replaced the water with a fresh batch, same exact temperature. Remus was too tired to open his eyes, but he knew they’d been here before, knew Sirius’s modus operandi for the aftermath of the full moon. 

The flannel came next. It was slick with soap, fresh lime and mint that Sirius bought. Remus didn’t ask wherefrom, scared of what shops he went to, of how much it cost. Sirius had expensive taste, and Remus was guiltily aware of how little money he had. How little he contributed with. How much Sirius had, how much he bought for them both. What little ignorance remained was bliss.

Neck and shoulders, first. Careful with his neck, but rougher with his shoulders. They were tense to the point where there was a real risk of something tearing, muscles coiled from their recent trauma. They'd been overpowered again, violated in the same way they always were, in a way they could never defend themselves from. They wouldn’t all loosen at once, but Sirius started the process here, in the hot water, with his skilful hands working with the flannel as a barrier, ridding the process of sharp nails and pointy knuckles. The mint in the soap helped with his chest, Remus thought, breathing in deeply. He could feel his airways forcing themselves fully open, like someone throwing open windows in the spring, after a winter of hibernation. 

Sirius liked touching his chest. Remus had thought it was just his heart, first, because despite Sirius’s kinks and his shameless ways, he seemed to find it deeply satisfying and even arousing to listen to Remus’s heartbeat, or to feel it thump underneath his hand. But it was his lungs, too, Remus was coming to realize, and now the flannel fell into the bathwater as Sirius’s hands got busy along Remus’s ribs. His delicate, pointy, skeletal ribs; too close to the surface because Remus was inherently skinny, possessed no congenital athleticism, a defect he paired with a small appetite that fluctuated noticeably with the moon. But underneath there _were_ lungs at work, and Sirius’s hands apparently needed to be there, needed to make sure everything was functional. Alive.

“Doing so well, Moony. Just like that. Feels nice, and your skin is warm, too.”

Remus didn’t respond, didn’t look. He found his own body distasteful most days, maybe just a bit lacking if he was having a good day. Inadequate. Not much to look at, and certainly not fit for someone like Sirius to look at. Sirius who was more beautiful than any man had the right to be, who possessed more beauty than even most women did. Who had a stunning face and the body to match. Tonight, Remus’s wretched near-carcass of a body had broken itself to pieces, reshaped itself into a monster, and then torn that to pieces, too. Cast off what was left of him, dumped the cracked shell and what remained of the insides in a heap of dirt, out in the cold.

“Pink and pretty.”

Sirius played with his nipples, although for once it didn’t feel sexual. Remus couldn’t even remember what a sexual urge felt like at that moment, even though he knew he’d been shagging like a wild beast a day previous. Knew it was an integral part of the rest of his month. Funny, how everything good left you. How you couldn’t remember what it was you lacked, what it was that was supposed to fill that emptiness inside.

The flannel was back, and Sirius was contorting his arm to get to Remus’s back. He didn’t have the energy to turn, didn’t have the energy to make this easier for Sirius. His eyes were still closed. They stayed closed as Sirius scrubbed the scar tissue, the cursed gauges along his hip, fifteen years numb and unfeeling. A single tear pushed out the corner of his eye. He kept breathing.

His arms were scrubbed, long strokes up and down, more bubbles, more water. Sirius spent a lot of times on both of his hands. He bent every joint, checked they all bent same as before. It hurt, sometimes, but Remus kept it inside as best he could. He wished he had stronger muscles, in his hands and arms, the way Sirius did. Stronger arms could have taken more, stronger fingers would’ve run less risk of crumpling and splintering and tearing. Sirius wouldn't have to worry so much, ad Remus's wouldn't have to hurt. It hurt; Remus’s insides hurt.

“Your body has been so good,” Sirius said. Remus felt that the reverence in his voce was misplaced. Jarring. “Handsome long fingers.” There were languid, plush kisses all over his palms, the back of his hands, on every fingertip. Some Sirius sucked on, and his mouth felt scorching next to the water and the humid air in the bathroom.

His feet were next. They were cradled and kissed, much like the hands before them, and every toe was checked on, every tiny joint. Remus’s ankles were rolled and massaged, because they, too were parts that ran greater risk of getting hurt than most. 

His thighs were all muscle, all cramped to oblivion. Remus spasmed when his boyfriend tried to work his magic, his skilful fingers on the traumatized tissue. Remus winced despite trying to hold it in, and he could feel his eyes prickle again despite it all, tightly shut as they were. Sirius caressed his thighs all around, instead, soft palms and soapy flannel. 

Remus barely noticed how his balls were soaped up and fondled with water and gentle hands, but then his dick was fished up and held ever so protectively in Sirius’s hand. That jolt of pleasure could not be ignored, that sluggish surge of blood brought back a missing piece for him. It throbbed hotly, there was the hint of a tingling somewhere deep in his stomach.

“All in working order,” Sirius concluded.

The struggle to get Remus’s stiff body into pyjamas was a great one. Before that there was murtlap essence, which went on bruises Remus didn’t know were there, because all of him felt like a giant bruise. Eventually, he was partially healed and snug and clothed; he even had thick woolly socks on, red ones his mother had knitted for him for Christmas when he was fifteen. He was carried to the sofa, where Sirius had made a nest of blankets and pillows for him. He ached, but he kept telling himself that the worst part was over. He hated that Sirius didn’t lie down with him, but his eyes were tired, prickly with more than just exhaustion, and he closed them and listened to his lover rummaging around nearby, in the kitchen. He began to doze off, but it was fitful, his body still wasn’t relaxed enough to let him go under.

“Bit of food before we sleep, yeah?”

Remus tried to make a happy noise, because that was what he felt. Not about the food, with his stomach clenching as painfully as it was, but because his lover was finally getting in with him, was trying to be careful as he moved Remus around like he was a porcelain doll, one in dire need of support behind his head lest his neck snap in half. Remus thought there were several other pieces besides his neck that had cracked, but Sirius probably knew most of the damage by now. 

His voice was so broken his supposed happy noise sounded worthy of a dementor.

Sirius managed to get underneath him, finally, and Remus’s head was on his chest. His bare, broad, currently almost hairless chest. Warmth, all the warmth. Sirius had a bowl and a spoon, and despite how bad it was, his belly, his throat, Remus opened his mouth, jaw gnashing on its hinges, because he knew it would please Sirius. Sirius had gone to such trouble, and he had no way to say thank you. Not even his words. 

It was cold and melting on his tongue, making him shiver, but then it slid into his throat, numbing the red raw devastation all the howling had caused.

“Just some vanilla ice cream,” Sirius told his temple, where he was simultaneously busy trailing kisses, and Remus had already opened up again, greedy like a starved alley cat, almost biting the spoon as he was fed another mouthful. “And I want you to have some raspberries, as well. Vitamins and calories and then we can do a bit of fibre and protein after you’ve slept. I think you mostly had meat these past two days. Wolf’s diet.”

Remus licked more ice cream off the spoon, then waited impatiently as Sirius spooned up more icy goodness from the bowl. 

“I talked a bit to Lily about it. About what’s in a healthy diet, shit like that.”

Remus wasn’t listening. He spilt ice cream down his chin, but Sirius must have been watching him because he wiped it away with his thumb. 

“She took the piss at first, of course, but then she told me everything I wanted to know. We need to feed you better, make sure you stay healthy. Especially in the winter with these long moons.”

Remus growled with his newfound voice, because he did not wish to be reminded of that. He’d survived it just now, hadn’t he?

“I’ve decided that ice cream is the staple of a healthy diet,” Sirius continued, laughing a little into Remus’s hair, “as well as Bertie Bott’s All Flavoured Beans. Together, they just about cover every human need. Minerals and vitamins and omegas and all the rest of it. Lily will be so proud of me, don’t you reckon?”

Remus had a raspberry from Sirius’s fingers, a fresh one. Muggles had their greenhouses too, Remus supposed, and he certainly wasn’t complaining about longer seasons for fresh berries. He steered his mind away from wondering how much Sirius had paid to buy something that, to his mind, was a luxury product. The flavour burst like Acid Pops in his mouth, but after a few seconds it turned tasty and sweet on his tongue. 

Sirius had a free hand now that the ice cream was gone, and Remus felt it on his chest, his heart, then it moved down his body, stroking over the fabric of the pyjamas. Remus was warm now, heated up from the blankets and from Sirius’s body.

“That’s it, just one more and you’ve had them all. Such a good boy, filling up your little belly. Give your body a treat after all it’s been through tonight.”

Remus chewed, grinding raspberry seeds between his teeth. Sirius’s hand was on his belly, rubbing and patting as though that might help with digestion. As soon as he stopped chewing he felt how heavy his whole body was, how much it needed to rest. He managed to turn his head enough to be able to stick his nose into Sirius’s neck, where he could smell his lover, nuzzle into him. Where it was warm and dark and safe. Sirius’s hand he took in his own, squeezed it with the last of his strength and directed it between his legs. 

He could tell that it made Sirius smile, but of course Sirius indulged him. He slipped his warm hand underneath Remus’s pyjama bottoms, palmed Remus’s soft length until it was snug in his hand. By that point Remus was already asleep. 

He woke up sore and rigid, but still warm, still embraced by his lover’s arms. Arm. The other one was still… Thing was, he also woke up wet and sticky.

“Sorry,” he muttered, because Sirius was tracing featherlight kisses along the shell of his ear, and thus definitely awake. 

“Most natural thing in the world,” Sirius whispered, then gave Remus’s dick a squeeze. It had gone soft again, but considering the wetness it wasn’t long since Remus had come.

“Natural if you’re a kid, maybe,” Remus grumbled, feeling out his voice. It held, which was something, at least.

“Nah, I meant it’s a natural reaction since you’re sleeping with me. I’m the sexiest fucker out there, no wonder you can’t control yourself.”

“Ha bloody ha,” Remus rasped out, and he could feel Sirius’s chest vibrating as he did the real thing. Unfortunately, Remus’s dick decided this was its cue to stiffen again, and with that realization his cheeks turned crimson. The humiliating reality of it was that Sirius, despite the ego and obnoxious arrogance, did have a point. Remus was quite sure he wasn’t the only one who woke up hot and bothered from dreaming about Sirius, especially as Sirius had spent time in many, many beds before Remus’s, spent several formative years getting around and making a name for himself. 

“Now you look like yourself again,” Sirius whispered into his ear, blowing hot air on the wet kisses he had put there. “Blushing like a sweet little virgin but with a raging hardon like you can’t wait to be corrupted.”

“You have, already,” Remus tried.

“Not nearly enough if you can still blush like this,” Sirius stated decisively. “Want a blowie?”

“Yes please.”

It took some effort for Sirius to get out from underneath him, and when he finally stood beside the sofa, looking down at Remus like he was something to cherish, something to keep, then Remus blushed all the way to his toes.

Sirius was naked, he usually slept like that just like Remus usually couldn’t sleep unless he had pyjamas on. His body looked stunning, virile, firmly oozing strength and vitality. His eyes were so soft, though, the way they only were when they looked at Remus.

Sirius got comfortable between his legs, a challenge on the sofa, but Remus was too achy to move more than he had to. His pyjamas were pulled down, his dick released into the early morning air, the shameful dried tracks of come around it were laid bare. He pulled a blanket over his hip, to keep the bad things at bay.

Sirius got to work on him, much slower and more sensual than normal, but then their normal would have been ill-fitting so soon after the full. Lips wet and lingering, tongue slick and patient. All over; root to tip, round the head, down a vein, up another, down a third, exploration into every wrinkle of foreskin. One testicle, two. And further down, down…

Remus quit moaning and winced, because he couldn’t get his legs in a position where Sirius would be able to lick his hole. Another time. Sirius pressed his hands underneath Remus’s bum instead, focused his mouth back on his prick. His needy, twitching, bloated prick; the one Remus had so little control over. Sirius had more, he was convinced.

Sirius dined on precum like it was ambrosia, and his hands had grabbed hold of a cheek each, were massaging and fondling the soft flesh of Remus’s behind. 

Remus was breathless by he time he came, but he had to strain his sore neck because he needed to see it in all its glory. Sirius looking contentedly at him as he swallowed, drank him down, suckled with as little pressure as he could manage once Remus began to turn soft, calmed back down. 

His neck fell back into the pillows. He was released and tucked back in, his dick into his pyjamas, the rest of his body into soft blankets. There might have been a kiss on his forehead.

When he awoke there was food, food that smelled good and not burnt at all.

“You’ve actually learnt how to cook, haven’t you?” Remus asked, and although he sounded shocked his mind immediately provided him with a list of what they had eaten the past few weeks, provided him with the fact that it was a while since Sirius had burnt anything, the fact that the dishes Sirius had produced recently had been fairly decent.

“Just for you,” Sirius said haughtily, as though he wouldn’t want anyone to think he’d bother learning such a skill for himself. He handed Remus his plate with a flourish. It was just French Toast with more raspberries and sliced banana, but it looked just right, and Remus wouldn’t have had the first idea how to make it himself. He was still in the ‘burning it’ versus ‘so undercooked I might just give you food poisoning’ stage.

“Wow.”

“I’ll try my hand at an omelette, later.”

“That’s impressive,” Remus said, then had a bite. “’S good!”

“Thanks.”

They ate quietly, although Remus couldn’t help but smile, occasionally, and blush when his smiles were returned. He managed to eat it all, which was note-worthy for him. He thought Sirius looked quite smug when he watched the last slice of banana disappear into Remus’s mouth, but he said nothing about it.

Sirius magicked their plates away once they were done, and Remus sighed contentedly, blinked sleepily at his lover.

“Sleep here or the bed?”

“Here,” Remus mumbled. He needed it despite how cramped it was, needed to stay in the warm den Sirius had made for him. He smiled giddily when Sirius got in with him, sexy and naked and warm. Wanting to share the nest with him, hold him despite who he was. What he was. 

They ended up spooning, this time, and Remus laid so that he was facing the mantelpiece. The mantelpiece was laden with photos, people they knew jumping around every frame, waving and smiling. They were people they’d known at Hogwarts, people who had been in the Order with them. James and Lily. Peter. James’s parents, who’d cared for Sirius when he had been at his most vulnerable. 

There was a muggle photograph there, too. A woman who sat in her art studio, smiling sweetly into the world. She was dead now, and it never went a day when Remus didn’t think about her. 

Lying here, with his boyfriend’s strong arms around him, with a full belly and with Sirius whispering love into his ear, he truly had the strength to smile back at the picture of his mother. She had loved him every day of her life, even after he turned into a monster. She had sat with him after the full moons, had hugged him, sung him to sleep and brought him hot chocolate in bed. He hoped she could see him now, that she could see him and Sirius. She’d met Sirius when they were still kids, when he certainly didn't have the qualities he had now. Remus hoped she knew, though. Knew he was being looked after, cared for. That he still had someone who loved him.

“I want to kiss,” he whispered, cheeks blossoming and feeling his whole body ignite with that lovely, tingling sensation. All the way to his toes and his fingertips. Pooling hotly in his lower stomach.

“You can’t keep away from me, can you?” Sirius whispered back, breath tickling in the nape of Remus’s neck, the fine curly hairs there. “You’re such a little slut for my mouth, aren’t you? For my perfect, manly body.”

Remus turned, which was a cumbersome process, but he was getting there. Sirius’s eyes were so full of the good things: of laughter and satisfaction and something that looked dangerously like adoration. Remus leant close, mouth almost touching Sirius’s.

“Nah. I like that you’re pretty, like a girl. You make me food and give me oral, like an obedient housewife. And let’s not forget how well you wear lacy knickers, how swell your bum looks in tight ones. We could expand your collection, get you pink ones.”

“Mhmm,” was Sirius’s response, and it sounded a lot like agreement. His eyes twinkled like so many stars. “I’ll take you shopping, you can pick some out for me.”

Remus’s budding erection decided that this was a good time to make itself known, pressing against Sirius’s thigh, and Sirius attempted to kiss the new flash of colour away from Remus’s cheeks. 

“Your dick has certainly put the moon behind it, hasn’t it?”

“What moon?” Remus mumbled, and the smile Sirius gave him back was brighter than any celestial body. 

Remus finally got his kiss, after that.


End file.
